even if you're gone i'm going to find a way to make this summer amazing.

i deserve it.

i feel extra super ridiculously lonely today...

but not in a bad way.

i was so certain of myself and everything is changing now and maybe i'll leave here, maybe friends will change, maybe i'll relocate a few times,

but i can change things for myself and make things work they way i want them to.

lately i've felt like a shitty person but

last night it wasn't too cold and my mouth was sticky sweet with vodka and juice and

the stars were finally visible

and i could feel something big starting.

little shadow

so today was the last day of my english class, and it was a little sad, due to the fact it completely restored my love of literature. today was one of my favorite days so far, we dissected poetry by ted hughes, w.h. auden, and phillip larkin. the poem that stood out to me the most though was "Musee de Beaux Arts" by w.h. auden. It's written about the painting by Pieter Bruegel depicting the fall of Icarus. Instead of having the classic Greek myth as the subject of the painting, it's only an insignificant part of the painting, which is focused on the common people going on with their daily jobs tasks. I loved the message the poem sent across, that although pain and suffering haunts the world, life essentially goes on. This sounds like a cheesy, encouraging message to send across but it in

stead focuses more on the apathy that is cursed upon society, that so many average things coexist with such great pain. Also, I just find the myth of Icarus particularly interesting. Anyway, here is the poem and the painting so you can get an idea of it.

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters; how well, they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

i thought i would come home to find comfort in what was, what used to be my inspiration. after three months in maryland i found out nothing will be like it once was, i most likely won't be able to lie in my floor and look at my window and think because there are so many new thoughts and places crammed inside my head. i thought coming home would be some release, especially for writing, but i only found that it's been easier and easier for me write at school, to find places where i let me head and hand take over. i'll always love it here, but it would be naive to claim that nothing has changed. although it was exciting to see my friends and family again, thanksgiving break was a little unsettling. every time i saw someone i had to rush to fit my new life into words in under and hour, and had to take in everyones' new lives in the same amount of time. maybe it's because it's november and i generally hate november and that's why it was a little unpleasant for me with the cold and the bare trees but i just felt trapped between two places, one that i'm starting to identify with less and less and one i'm starting to call home more and more. maybe it's because i know that some of the people i care about most won't be here for break and that i have to worry about this summer and visits and all the things i didn't have to care about at school seemed real here. there's no doubt coming home was great it just...wasn't what i expected.

“what is the meaning of life? That was all- a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with the years. the great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one.”

i like rainy days of stir fry, talking about harry potter, volunteering at the co-op, being arm's length in bleach for two hours while discussing music, watching bad romance over and over, writing a s/s 2010 review while allie and julia sit on my bed and read vogue.